


Strawberry Toffee

by owlsshadows



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, First Kiss, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension, awkward teenagers, rarepair hell, smol and tol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 11:36:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6904309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlsshadows/pseuds/owlsshadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Wow, you must’ve had a big growth spurt suddenly,” Nishinoya muses and he absent-mindedly traces the marked back of Tsukishima.</p><p>The tall boy jumps from the touch. His ears flare up bright red.</p><p>Nishinoya feels as the axe of cuteness lands in his chest with a loud thud.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strawberry Toffee

“Wow, you must’ve had a big growth spurt suddenly,” Nishinoya muses and he absent-mindedly traces the marked back of Tsukishima.

The tall boy jumps from the touch. His ears flare up bright red.

Nishinoya feels as the axe of cuteness lands in his chest with a loud thud.

He couldn’t describe it better: the look on Tsukishima’s face slaughtered him and shattered his heart into pieces.

He never ever imagined that the freshman could be this adorable when flustered. He never thought he could make the lanky boy flustered, in the first place. He thought Tsukishima’s wall of sarcasm was impenetrable.

Yet, Tsukishima stands right in front of him, face flushed, arms entangled in his T-shirt. His face is bright red from one ear to another; his nostrils flare with the sharp breath he takes, his lips part shakily, then close before he could say anything. Shyly, he is turning to face Nishinoya, hiding his back as much as possible.

The libero’s brain stops functioning. It’s obvious he has touched a weak point, but he didn’t mean it, and oh, now how can he make it un-happen?

“Oh, I meant it as a compliment! Those growth lines are rad, man!” he says panicked and he slaps Tsukishima’s shoulder awkwardly. He is sure he is digging his own grave with every word he utters, yet he can’t put a stopper on his speech. “I never really grew, so I have nothing of the kind. I am quite envious, you know!” he adds desperately, and he feels like crying seeing how Tsukishima’s expression changes, darkens.

“Can you please stop, Noya-san?” the tall boy asks silently. “It bothers me.”

He looks at Nishinoya with a wounded look.

The libero’s eyes follow Tsukishima’s lips as an inaudible sigh leaves them. His stomach churns, and he decides that the culprit for his strange symptoms must be the two-weeks-expired melon bread he ate earlier the day.

“I’m sorry. Really.” When Tsukishima turns away to pull on his T-shirt, Nishinoya drops his head. “I had no idea I would hurt you” he says.

As no reply comes, he tries another approach instead. Quickly turning to his bag, he starts to frantically search its contents. He is sure that he will find something in there that could make Tsukishima feel better.

“Here you go,” he says finally, tugging on Tsukishima’s T-shirt to make the boy face him again.

There is a short pause before the blonde turns. His blush is gone and he seems to be back to his naturally cold attitude, but Nishinoya can see the surprise in his eyes.

A winning smile appears on the lips of the libero. Bonbon in hand, he leans in, in a posture similar to that of the knights in fairy tales; one leg slightly behind the other, one hand behind his waist, supporting his stance.

“A strawberry toffee,” he says, glancing up from below his lashes and all that crazy hair. His prying eyes await the tall boy’s reactions curiously.

Tsukishima’s lips part. He breaths in, slowly. He sighs, and carefully, with the tips of his fingers, he seizes the wrapper of the candy.

“Thanks,” he says. He doesn’t seem to be angry.

Nishinoya takes this as encouragement. His left hand flies ahead from behind his tiny frame and grabs Tsukishima’s wrist.

“Caught you,” he smiles.

“Noya-san…?”

“Oh… well, you seemed kind of down. Thought a surprise would make the trick,” he laughs awkwardly. “I didn’t want to hurt you, and I couldn’t bear if my comment left a bad aftertaste…”

The bewildered look on Tsukishima’s face renders the libero silent and even more panicked than before. ‘The candy was probably a bad idea,’ he thinks loosening his grasp on Tsukishima’s wrist but reluctant to let go.

*

‘He doesn’t have to know. Not now, not ever,’ Tsukishima repeats his mantra over and over again, but his instincts win over his brain.

He yanks Nishinoya closer with his arm the libero clings onto. Nishinoya nearly trips from the sudden pull, his eyes open wider in surprise. Tsukishima leans down and sighs softly in remorse over the impromptu crime he is about to commit the moment before he shuts his own eyes.

Nishinoya’s lips are dry and chapped. They taste of pocari and confusion.

He unconsciously tucks his neck backwards to meet Tsukishima’s lips, but doesn’t return the kiss. His lips stay closed and impassive; he even stops breathing upon impact.

Tsukishima wishes to run away and hide in a hole far away, deeper than the sea.

He swore to himself months ago, when he first noticed how his eyes wander off during practice, that he will not do anything about his small, budding crush for Nishinoya.

He hardened his resolve over the excruciatingly long days of the summer camp; he willingly blocked for Bokuto, rather than spending time with his own team when he noticed that his insignificant curiosity grew greater and stronger, until the point he found it hard to look Nishinoya in the eyes.

It was not some innocent interest one develops for the other. It was lust, burning in his body, tearing him apart and driving him crazy. First, it was the hand. The fingers, soft and slender; the palm thin like paper, the wrist he could encircle with his fingers easily. Then it was the neck, slim and sweaty, the Adam’s apple bobbing visibly as the libero shouted his cheery words.

It was the clavicle, the soft arc between his sternum and scapula.

It was those tiny shoulders carrying the weight which came with the name of the guardian deity.

Tsukishima noticed himself glancing over at the libero after practice; wishing he could run his fingers over the oh-so fragile looking, yet firm body.

It was the mouth. The ears. The eyes. His soft-looking cheeks.

Tsukishima fell for this dumb, cheerful tiny bird, and all he could think about for the past few weeks was how sweet his lips would be.

He wished it was someone else. Someone to whom he could probably tell how his interest for them was strongly of sexual nature. Someone like… someone else, but Nishinoya.

He tried to supress the urge to get close to the libero. He evaded eye contact, he evaded talking; the high fives they made as they changed each other on the court felt like no other pain.

He tried, and tried hard to forget his lust.

He focused on his studies instead, burying himself in books deep inside the library; a place Nishinoya would never visit.

He banished all fantasies, and killed all desire in their wake. He even deprived himself from the luxury of thoughts.

And then, when he finally thought that it was safe to be just the two of them in the changing room, because he felt that he had mastered the art of denying love; Nishinoya reached out to him and stroked the growth lines on his back.

His resistance has broken as a dam in time of flood. And as he opens his eyes, heart drumming loud in his ears, timidly glancing over Nishinoya, he wishes he could disappear.

The boy looks puzzled. Not utterly freaked out, but nearly.

 “Umm… well…” he starts in a strange, high-pitched yet raspy voice. “This is… uhm… we…”

He meets Tsukishima’s gaze and blinks.

Utter defeat looms over Tsukishima, and he tries turning his face away. He can still smell the shampoo on Nishinoya’s hair, and it drives him crazy. He tries to get away from the situation, to escape somehow, run for the door and pretend that nothing happened the next day, but something stops him.

He is still holding onto the candy Nishinoya offered him. Nishinoya is still holding onto his wrist.

“Tsukishima,” the libero says, and the blocker wishes he could be deaf. He has no intention to listen. He knows what is coming; he pictured this situation over and over again, in different times, with different backgrounds, in colour and in black-and-white. “Tsukishima,” Nishinoya starts again, and he clutches the boy’s wrist stronger, until their eyes finally meet. There is real concern painted all over his face.

Tsukishima feels his insides churn again.

“It was not the marks on your back, was it?” Nishinoya asks.

“I’m sorry, Noya-san” Tsukishima says, tearing his arm out of Nishinoya’s grasp. His face is burning red, and he stutters as he continues. “Would you let me save the remnants of my pride… and let me walk away from here now, without demanding explanation?”

“You like the easy way out, don’t you?” he whispers, stepping closer. “If you are so afraid to lose, how will you ever succeed in anything that doesn’t fall into your lap on its own?” his voice creaks, as he pulls Tsukishima down to his eye level.

“I’m…” the blonde starts, but freezes when he notices Nishinoya closing his eyes. He takes a sharp breath as the libero closes the distance between them.

First, Nishinoya bumps his nose into Tsukishima’s. Next his lips touch the tip of the blocker’s nose. Third time he opens his eyes.

“Damn you for getting the right spot blindly,” he murmurs before he presses his lips on the lips of Tsukishima.

His technique is as crude as that of a baby chimpanzee that just came down from a tree. His nose pushes Tsukishima’s glasses up, his cheek bumps into the boy’s, his teeth graze skin.

Tsukishima takes a surprised step back.

“Noya-san,” he breathes, grabbing both arms of the libero.

“Hn?” Nishinoya asks.

“I don’t advise you to continue,” Tsukishima says, and it takes all of his self-control to stop himself from attacking the boy there and then.

Nishinoya looks up at him. Their eyes meet and damn, he just can’t stop himself from brushing his thumbs over the shoulders of the libero.

“Sorry, was it that bad?” Nishinoya asks. “You know, I have absolutely no experience in kissing, so if it was bad, just instruct me…”

Tsukishima feels like he was suddenly thrown into a pot filled with boiling water.

How do you tell your senpai that every ounce of you craves to touch him?

“Please,” he begs, but Nishinoya looks at him so openly and honestly that he is unable to resist. He leans down and plants a soft, feathery kiss on the forehead of the libero. “Don’t probe me, please. I want you.”

“I realized,” says Nishinoya, lifting his head to match Tsukishima’s lips, but he doesn’t touch them.

“This is a terrible idea,” Tsukishima protests weakly before kissing the libero.

“Every idea is a terrible one if you don’t dare to make them happen.”

“Is this a proverb from one of your T-shirt, Noya-san?”

“Probably,” replies the libero, tiptoeing to reach the neck of the blocker, and pulls him back to his level. “Kiss me. Teach how to do it right.”

The candy, neglected and forgotten, falls to the ground.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even find it ironic that I'm writing gay romance to an album called 'Woman' (btw it's great music, and you can listen to it too following this link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=my9JrzHlf9U)


End file.
